Gustav pointed to the office. “In there,” he said; “I’ll be hitching up while you’re about it.”
Soon after I came forth attired as a cab-driver.
In the middle of the yard stood the cab with a horse before it, which in the light of early dawn looked like some antediluvian animal. Gustav was occupied with the harness, and seemed disinclined to take notice of me.
“Here we are,” I said in a tone of assumed gaiety, which was not at all in keeping with my inmost mood. I seemed unspeakably ridiculous to myself.
Gustav looked at me askance, and made some inarticulate ejaculation. His conduct was not particularly encouraging. Upon the box I saw some sort of a receptacle with an open top.
“Aha,” I said, stepping up to it, “I presume this is the fodder-chest?”
Gustav looked at the receptacle and then at me. “That there?” he said; “sure, that’s my hat.”
“Ah, so——” I stammered in embarrassment; “your hat? Permit me.”
It was with strange feelings that I took the hat from the box and held it in my hand.
“Number twelve thirty-two,” said Gustav laconically.